


gold

by apellai



Series: red & gold [2]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: (don't worry it's a good cry), Anal Sex, Blowjobs, Crying During Sex, M/M, safe sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-22
Updated: 2018-05-22
Packaged: 2019-05-10 08:23:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14733419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/apellai/pseuds/apellai
Summary: “But we’ve known each other for years.” Enjolras pulls Grantaire toward him, wrapping his arms around his midsection and resting his chin on Grantaire’s shoulder. “That’s enough time to fall in love, I’m sure of it.”





	gold

**Author's Note:**

> welcome to the dirtiest thing i've ever written

“You’re so…” Grantaire starts.

“Stupid?”

“No, E,” he says, rolling his eyes.  _ How could Enjolras ever be stupid? _ “You’re ridiculous.”

Enjolras laughs. “I dunno, you’re the one who pushed me against a wall and made out with me the  _ second _ I entered your house.” 

“You essentially wrote an essay about loving me.”

“You- We are  _ so _ not doing this.”

Grantaire laughs, then takes Enjolras’s hand, pulling him toward his own bedroom. “I really thought you were mad, you know,” he says, softly. “I know we haven’t been together all that long.”

“But we’ve known each other for years.” Enjolras pulls Grantaire toward him, wrapping his arms around his midsection and resting his chin on Grantaire’s shoulder. “That’s enough time to fall in love, I’m sure of it.” He kisses at the blue lotus tattoo that Grantaire got shortly after he stopped drinking. “You’re so pretty, R,” he whispers, close enough that his breath tickles Grantaire’s ear, and Grantaire feels a fire erupt in his stomach.

They make their way to the bed, Grantaire falling onto it first, and Enjolras crawls his way up Grantaire’s body, making eye contact with him, and  _ fuck, _ those eyes -  _ He’s like a lion, _ Grantaire thinks. That’s fitting - a strong leader with a prowl and fluffy blond hair - and Grantaire says so.

“That’s not one of your best metaphors, R,” Enjolras laughs before kissing Grantaire.

“But it’s cute, though,” Grantaire whispers against the blond’s lips.

Enjolras pulls back and grins. “But you’re cute, though.” Grantaire feels himself blushing and pushes lightly against Enjolras’s shoulders, but soon enough pulls him into another kiss, pushing his hands indiscreetly under the red t-shirt Enjolras is wearing. He feels Enjolras tense and laugh as he whispers, “You’re fucking  _ cold!” _

Grantaire hums. “I’ll be warm soon enough,” he says as he pulls Enjolras’s shirt over his head. He finds himself staring at the body presented to him.

Enjolras is perfectly shaped, in Grantaire’s opinion, all lean muscle and angles, and soft freckled skin and Grantaire is reminded that Enjolras’s nipples are pierced,  _ of all the piercings he could have gotten- _

“Stop staring, you’re making me blush,” Enjolras mumbles as he tugs on the hem of Grantaire’s sweater. He pulls it off and brings Enjolras down to nip at his jaw and neck.

He sucks at the juncture between neck and shoulder and whispers, “I was wrong about you being made of marble, it’s more like gold,” he licks the hickey he’s just given his boyfriend, “shining like the sun. Perfect.”

Enjolras shudders. “Mm, more like shattered glass.”

Grantaire hums thoughtfully. “Okay, if we’re gonna get real: chipped porcelain. Blemished, but still delicate and beautiful.” Enjolras groans into his shoulder and grinds into Grantaire’s lap.

“I  _ said _ you’re making me blush, R.”

“That’s sort of the point.”

The blond huffs and repositions himself so he’s between Grantaire’s legs, working at the button on his jeans with shaky fingers. “You never wear jeans, what the fuck,” He mutters.

“I went out for coffee with Jehan, I had to -” Grantaire curses when Enjolras bites at his chest, “- I had to get dressed, babe. Do you need some help?” He laughs.

Enjolras’s face is red with what’s probably a mix of frustration and arousal, his hair flying out of its hair-tie to frame his features in gold. Grantaire’s glad he never turned on the light in his bedroom - the light from his window reflects off Enjolras’s form, damn near making him glow.

He decidedly doesn’t say anything about this, and instead throws his jeans off and makes quick work of getting rid of Enjolras’s pants, as well.

Enjolras leans down to kiss Grantaire again, licking and biting at his lower lip, while his hands roam Grantaire’s body. He caresses him like something delicate. His fingers ghost over dark chest hair, and his scars, his stretch marks, his tattoos - he takes extra care to love on the soft skin of his abdomen and thighs.

Grantaire feels a pinch to the inside of his thigh, and lets out a squeak. Enjolras giggles. “I was just making you were still in there, love,” Grantaire’s stomach flips at the pet-name, “You zoned out.”

“I was thinking about you.”

“You think too much,” Enjolras licks at Grantaire’s lips, “Just let me treat you.”

Grantaire scoffs. “Isn’t that my line, fearless leader?”

“Hm.”

Enjolras kisses Grantaire’s forehead, temple, cheek, the corner of his mouth, then his throat, before stopping. “I think,” a kiss to a shoulder, “That roles, in relationships, are bullshit.” Then a kiss to the center of his chest.

“Of course you do.”

He licks at Grantaire’s nipple, making him whimper. “Is that a bad thing?”

Grantaire sighs. “Not-  _ ugh, _ ” Enjolras bites at the same nipple, “Not necessarily. But it’s not surprising.”

Enjolras hums as he moves further down Grantaire’s body, stopping to kiss the tattoo of a chicken on his left hip. (He got it on a dare.)

“Anyway, I think relationships are a give-and-take thing,” he kisses the inside of R’s thigh where it’s growing pink, where he pinched earlier, “I can’t love you properly if you don’t allow me to.” Grantaire groans, and Enjolras lands a kiss to his still-clothed center.

“E, give me a break,” he moans.

Enjolras chuckles to himself. “I wonder how you’d do if I asked you to beg,” he says. It doesn’t sound like an invitation, but a musing, like he’s talking to himself. Then his eyes meet Grantaire’s, electric blue and  _ enchanting. _ He smirks. “You could make up for putting me through all that trouble.”

Grantaire huffs and sits up, resting on his elbows. He gives Enjolras one word: “Please,” he says, though it sounds more like a whimper than anything else.

Enjolras exhales shakily and licks his lips. “Yeah, I’m not that evil,” he mumbles, before hooking his fingers under the band of Grantaire’s boxers and pulling them off unceremoniously.

He starts by licking a long stripe up the underside of Grantaire’s cock, then uses the saliva there as lube to stroke him as he continues to sweet talk him.

“You have no idea what you do to me, R,” he whispers.

“I think I have an idea,” Grantaire replies.

“You look like something out of my dreams, like this. It always sort of shocks me, how you’re all masculine and hairy and muscular and you’re a  _ boxer  _ \- and you let a twink top you.”

Grantaire laughs, so loud it shocks himself. “That’s real sexy, E.”

Enjolras smirks. “But really,” he smiles up at his boyfriend, “People look at me like I’m some dainty little flower. Yet I can take you apart with one touch.” He presses a kiss to the head of the cock in his hand, and Grantaire whines. 

“You said you weren’t evil!”

“I said I wasn’t  _ that _ evil, there’s still room for some evil,” Grantaire groans again, rolling his eyes. “But I shan’t keep you waiting.”

“Oh, shut up, you pretentious f- _ uuuck,” _ Grantaire falls onto his back when Enjolras puts his mouth on him, moaning loudly enough that he’s sure he’ll get complaints from neighbors. He twists one hand in Enjolras’s hair, tearing the tie away in the process. He’d try to admire the way the blond locks fall onto Enjolras’s shoulders if he wasn’t busy getting the blowjob of his life.

After bobbing his head a few times, Enjolras pulls off Grantaire’s cock with a loud pop, letting his hand work the entire length as he speaks: “I wish you could see yourself right now. I want to take a picture. You look  _ incredible, _ Grantaire.”

“That’s my-  _ ohmigod - _ my line, fuck, Enjolras,” Grantaire moans.

“Stop saying that, R,” Enjolras says, in that no-nonsense tone of his.

Grantaire digs his hand into Enjolras’s hair and brings him up for a kiss. “I probably shouldn’t get off on you telling me what to do, huh?” Enjolras snorts.

“Well,” he begins tugging his own underwear off. “I’m not going to complain, but only within reason.”

“Well, duh,” Grantaire says as he hauls Enjolras back down to kiss him - it’s rough, messy and impassioned - Jehan would write poems about their kisses, if they saw. Sonnets about chapped, discolored lips against ones that are soft and pillowy and cherry red.

Enjolras skirts his tongue against Grantaire’s lower lip before pulling away with a bite, then another lick to sooth the pain.

They pant against each other’s mouths for a few moments. Grantaire takes this time to truly take in Enjolras’s appearance - his flush makes his freckles look almost red, his eyes are nearly watering, the red rim making his eyes all the more stunningly, shockingly blue; parts of his hair stick to his face with sweat, and  _ fuck, _ his lips are so red and wet and plump and-

“You’re staring again,” Enjolras says around a barely-contained smile.

“It’s hard not to,” Grantaire whispers, pecking Enjolras on the cheek. “Enjolras.”

“Hm?”

“Fuck me.”

Enjolras groans and gives Grantaire one more kiss before reaching over him to the bedside table to fish out a bottle of lube and a condom, letting out a soft sigh when Grantaire pulls at his hair. He kisses Grantaire’s chin, then moves down his body again, resting between his thighs.

He pressed his lips to the inside of Grantaire’s thigh as he lubes one finger, licking at the skin there. That finger presses against Grantaire’s entrance, and Enjolras looks up at him for consent.

Grantaire leans back onto his elbows and runs a hand along Enjolras’s cheek, thumb passing over his bottom lip gently. He smiles.

“Go for it, gorgeous,” Grantaire says.

“You’re so fucking corny,” Enjolras replies.

Grantaire laughs, then sucks in a harsh breath when Enjolras’s finger enters him; the feeling’s not new, but it’s shocking every time.

It’s not long before Enjolras  readjusts, adds more lube, then adds a finger to join the first.

Grantaire feels like he’s bursting with heat, his heart pounding out of his chest, his stomach churning; he begs Enjolras to hurry up. “I can’t do this for long,” he whines.

Enjolras sits up and kisses the corner of his lips, gently working his fingers out of Grantaire. He keeps whispering, “I’ve got you,” among other sweet things, and it’s just so much for Grantaire. He covers his mouth when Enjolras finally enters him, biting away a low cry.

Enjolras’s forehead rests against Grantaire’s shoulder, hot breath tickling him there.

Before he begins to move, he hauls himself up and watches Grantaire, grabbing his wrist and tearing his hand away from his mouth.

“I want to hear you.”

Grantaire whimpers.

The first thrust makes him arch and cry out.

Enjolras soon finds a rhythm that keeps them both occupied; his arms are wrapped around Grantaire’s waist, lifting him off the bed with strength that neither truly knew he had. He lays kisses along Grantaire’s chest, and between moans, tells him, “You’re so beautiful.”

Grantaire feels tears prick his eyes and tries to bite them back, to no avail.

Enjolras looks up to see Grantaire crying, and nearly stops altogether. Grantaire lets out a whine.

“Don’t stop, Enjolras, fuck,” He groans.

Enjolras leans in, centimeters away from his face, with an expression of worry and fear. “Are- are you okay?” He asks.

Grantaire tries to scoff, but it comes out more as a sigh. “I’m fine, E,” he kisses Enjolras to punctuate the statement, “It’s a good cry, I promise.”

“Okay,” Enjolras eyes him warily, but moves again.

His movements are less rough, less insistent, this time; the men move together in tandem, groaning into each other’s mouths.

Grantaire comes with particularly hard, well-timed and well-positioned thrust, crying out, his voice raw and face wet. Enjolras licks into his mouth as he rides out his orgasm, and follows closely after him, all the while holding him close and tender.

Enjolras whispers, “I love you,” over and over again in Grantaire’s ear as they come down.

After a few moments, he pulls out and tosses the condom in the trash, and grabs a tissue from Grantaire’s bedside table to wipe him down. It doesn’t do a particularly good job, but it’s something. Grantaire grabs another tissue to wipe his face.

Enjolras lays next to him, tracing the markings on his skin with delicate fingers. “You cried, R.”

“Yeah, that’s a new development.”

Enjolras laughs, then kisses behind Grantaire’s ear. “You  _ also _ came without touching yourself, now  _ that’s _ impressive.”

Grantaire gives a half-laugh, half-embarrassed-groan, and rolls over, covering his face with a pillow. Enjolras just leans over him, kissing the back of his neck, pulling him into a tender embrace. “I love you,” he says, as he pulls the pillow away from Grantaire’s face. Grantaire smiles up at him.

“I love you too.”

 

They fall asleep under the summer sun.

 

//


End file.
